


Reach Out and Touch Faith

by infidusfiles



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blasphemy, Male Solo, Other, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Public Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 21:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infidusfiles/pseuds/infidusfiles
Summary: Ignatz worships in his own way.





	Reach Out and Touch Faith

The gaping hole in the rooftop cast the worship area in streams of golden light, as if Sothis herself were blessing her followers in her warmth. There were days Ignatz would sit with his easel and track the light across the building. They let him, even as huge chunks of rubble were moved and pews replaced. The knights and monks would joke that he was such a fixture now that he should add himself peeking out from behind a column. They failed to understand that his worship was not meant for them. 

With the Archbishop missing services were solemn in a different way, prayers became desperate pleas for her safe return. Without her Fodlan was adrift, toddling around blindly in search of their connection to their faith. Ignatz’s faith was never dependent on the mortal plane. He worshiped the Goddess and her saints in his own way, one better met with privacy than the spectacle of being in the first pew for all the others to see.

Years ago he would not have been allowed this. He would have been forced to sit uncomfortably for hours through arias and sermons. But now, five years on in a seemingly endless war, they let him stay in the side altar alone during services. Ostensibly to guard the saint statues and art he loved so much, but in reality because the knights were drawn to the professors light in the same way they were drawn to the archbishops, and they wanted to worship in the main cathedral. He didn’t mind, it suited him to have a private space to worship, one simultaneously far enough away that he couldn’t be seen and close enough that he could hear the soaring chorus, benedictions, and feel the warmth and glory of his Goddess. 

They offered once to bring him a cushion to kneel upon in the saints alcove, and had been surprised at his adamant refusal. They did not understand that his worship wasn’t about his comfort. The hard stone under his knees still had its morning chill, it grounded him, reminded him that he was a mere mortal while she was a celestial being of love, that no matter how hard he tried he could never reach her. It made him ache to think of, chest and pants growing tight with his unworthiness before her. The saints of old watched over him as he began his prayer.

He had nothing to slick the way as he trailed his fingers down his length. He kept the touch light, this worship was not about his pleasure but rather about baring himself before her as her loyal follower. Services ran long and it would not do to finish his prayer before the others. It had taken him a long time to be able to control himself, to hold himself on the knife's edge of his devotion to her and he had yet to master it. He still failed regularly, soiling his hands with his weakness. This time he promised himself that he would succeed. If he did, maybe then she would deem him worthy of her divine grace, allow him to peer upon her visage and share it in his paintings.

No matter how careful or slow Ignatz was in his ministrations he couldn’t deny that he was beginning to feel the pull and twists of his hand, his precome doing little to ease his discomfort. To derive any sort of pleasure from this was a mark of his humanity. Here he knelt in the holiest of her sanctums, surrounded by saints that had fought in her name, unable to separate his piety from carnal acts of worship. The Goddess, who heard his pleas for victory in battle would hear the noises escaping him as well. Would she forgive him? Would she still find him worthy of her? 

He could hear the monks pick up their chants, he was close, having held out the longest he ever had. Spiraling on the echoes of pleasure as he kept himself on the edge. He licked his hand and returned it to himself. With the service so near the end he could afford to test the boundaries. To see if he could hold his worship to divine standard. The longer he held on the higher he felt, the chants an endless rhythm as he dragged himself upwards towards righteousness. His worship was nearly complete.

The chants fell to a surging choir, as those from all walks of life and social standing stood together in harmony. It was exactly as the Goddess had ordained, pure as the sun that warmed her parish. He felt exalted in her love, he was so close as he tried desperately to hold on to that edge, to not tumble or falter. He was rising too fast to control it. He dug his knees harder into the stones, hoping their roughness would hold it off but still he felt it’s approach. In desperation he prostrated himself before the goddess and her most venerated disciples, the golden relics of old watching as he descended again to utmost pleasure, back to earth. Back to the mundane. Twitching with the power of his fall. Yet even in his failure he felt that perfect spark of inspiration. He would reach his masterpiece.

**Author's Note:**

> TLDR: Ignatz masturbates furiously in a church


End file.
